


Blue spring

by epithalamium



Series: When the sky is blue [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Description of Corpses, M!Dimileth, M/M, Madness, Male My Unit | Byleth, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epithalamium/pseuds/epithalamium
Summary: Byleth Eisner was scary. He seldom spoke unless asked a direct question, the expression on his face unchanging and his eyes flat with disinterest. He conversed with people in the same way Dimitri had seen him kill bandits during the last day of camp: distant and unmoved.But he held his sword as if it was an extension of his body and he moved with the precision of a knife point.So: he was useful and he taught well and there was something almost charming about the clumsy way he tried to connect with people.Dimitri wanted him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Series: When the sky is blue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005819
Comments: 14
Kudos: 214





	Blue spring

**Author's Note:**

> Blue spring is the title of a movie that's based on a manga. But it's also a play on the word 青春 (seishun) which means 'youth', but is written with the kanji for blue and spring. 
> 
> I set out to write a story that evokes that feeling of falling in love in spring. If you've read the tags, you'll see that I failed fantastically 😂 But I hope this is fine!
> 
> Thanks so much to [Riley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianscientist/pseuds/lesbianscientist%22) for the beta and kind words!! Also Vivs and Jinger, for the encouragement and help with grammar trickiness. All remaining mistakes are my own.

i. First

Byleth Eisner was scary. He seldom spoke unless asked a direct question, the expression on his face unchanging and his eyes flat with disinterest. He conversed with people in the same way Dimitri had seen him kill bandits during the last day of camp: distant and unmoved. 

But he held his sword as if it was an extension of his body and he moved with the precision of a knife point. 

So: he was useful and he taught well and there was something almost charming about the clumsy way he tried to connect with people. 

Dimitri wanted him. 

*

ii. Smile 

Back in the infirmary, Dimitri found his classmates tending to Flayn and a student he didn't know. Their voices were loud in their excitement and he had a hard time making out what everyone was saying as they tried to explain what had happened while he was gone. 

'We found her at the end of the secret passage,' said Annette. 'The culprit was also there, but they managed to escape.'

'We almost had them,' said the professor, shaking his head. 

'The important thing is everyone's safe,' said Dimitri. 'How are the girls doing?'

'Their condition isn't bad,' said Mercedes, who was sitting next to Flayn's bed. 'But I would like to see more colour on their cheeks.' 

'I should send for a physician,' said Dedue. He bowed before heading out, closely followed by Annette. 

'I'm sure they'd be hungry when they wake up,' she said. 'And we should send word to Seteth.' 

Dimitri placed his hands on the back of a chair and sighed. 'What a relief.' He met the professor's eyes and, for a moment, forgot about Flayn and the mysteries surrounding her abduction. 

The professor was smiling. 

'Can you,' said Dimitri, swallowing. 'That is, this is the first time I've seen you smile. I--' He hadn't thought the professor could do that, his sharp features softening as his eyes lit up. 'At any rate, I don't mean to tease.' 

'He's right,' said Mercedes. Dimitri thought she was looking at him instead of the professor, but he couldn't bring himself to check. 'You should smile more often, professor.' 

'More importantly,' said the professor, who had turned a faint pink, 'I need to inform Lady Rhea about what happened.'

He left the room before he finished speaking, the words almost inaudible as he all but ran down the hallway. 

'My, my,' said Mercedes. 'I didn't know the professor had a cute side to him.' 

The professor was only a few years older than his students--he was in fact younger than Mercedes--and sometimes it showed. 

Dimitri was glad Flayn had been found. 

*

That night, he thought of the professor's smile and wondered, his fingers pressing against his own lips. 

*

iii. Trust 

After the battle, the heads of the other houses met to congratulate the Blue Lions on their victory. Claude, always one for making connections and alliances, suggested they feast upon their return to Garreg Mach. 

'It's time to celebrate our victory,' said the professor. 

'Now, now,' said Dimitri. 'We're supposed to be bonding.'

Perhaps the professor was finally letting his emotions show in his face or all the time they'd spent together helped Dimitri understand the professor more, but Dimitri noticed a slight change in his expression. The glint in his eye or the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips, and Dimitri realised the professor was only teasing. 'That was a joke, wasn't it?' 

'Perhaps,' said the professor. 'But I'm still proud of how well everyone had fought in this battle.' 

Dimitri smiled. 'It's all thanks to your leadership.' 

*

Gronder Field was a day's march away from the monastery, a long journey for students who had just spent the day doing hard physical work. The knights went about preparing for the night, setting up tents for the officers and the faculty, while the cooking staff got dinner ready in their makeshift kitchen. 

Dimitri wondered if the professor would sleep in the tents. He might if Jeralt had joined them, but the Captain had been sent away on Church business a few days before the Battle of Eagle and Lion. 

'Would you join us for dinner, professor?' 

The professor agreed readily enough. 'I'm not too keen spending the night listening to the other professors bickering.' 

He filled his wooden bowl with more food than Dimitri thought one person could comfortably finish, but seemed to be a normal serving for the professor. 

'I'm glad you're here,' said Dimitri. 

The professor tilted his head to one side. 'Yes?'

'If I may speak truthfully.' Dimitri took a deep breath. 'The first few months, I thought--that is, before I got to know you better, you scared me. You never smiled or got angry, and it wasn't that you were hiding your emotions. They simply weren't there.' 

'That's not very nice.' The professor looked at his pile of Gautier cheese and warm bread, his lower lip sticking out. 

Dimitri tried not to get distracted. 'You're different now. I can see that you do care about your students, and I'm glad you're here--that we could spend our time at the Academy with you.' 

He wondered if he had overstepped. He wasn't like Sylvain, who always knew the right thing to say, but he didn't think the professor was the kind to be won over by pretty words and flattery either. 

Then again, Dimitri _was_ overstepping their boundaries as teacher and student. The professor knew this, his face a careful mask of neutrality that reminded Dimitri of how he used to be, before he learned how to smile. 

'Thank you,' said the professor. A non-answer, but not a rejection. 

In his heart, Dimitri felt the flickering trace of hope. 

*

iv. Dance

From the corner of his eyes, Dimitri saw Claude lead the professor onto the dance floor and felt a hot rush of anger in his gut. Claude was winking, holding the professor's hands and laughing as they joined the other couples. 

'Your Highness?' His dance partner, the daughter of a minor house from Charon, tried to pull away. 'You're hurting me.' 

'I'm so sorry,' said Dimitri, easing his grip on her hand. 'I was trying to remember the next step.' 

She laughed, forgiving him. 'If you would allow me to lead?'

He spent most of the ball in a whirlwind of dancing and light-hearted conversation. Most of the girls from the Academy weren't expected to serve as the heads of their household after they graduate, but they relayed information to their fathers and brothers, and Dimitri had to prove himself a capable leader they could trust. 

The professor was always occupied; whenever Dimitri allowed himself to look around the great hall he found the professor dancing with a different student or surrounded by them, being offered sweets and drinks and bad jokes. That was to be expected: he was young, good looking, and very skilled. That he had Lady Rhea's favour was only a plus. 

Dimitri always looked away before he could see the professor smile, his eyes shining with humour and affection for someone else. 

*

The clocks had struck the twelfth hour before Dimitri managed to sneak away from the ball. The courtyard was deserted, lit by the moon and the columns of light that spilled from the grand hall. He took a deep breath; the cold air smelled incredibly fresh after the heady mix of perfume and the sweetness of beeswax candles inside, and he wished he didn't have to return. 

'Dimitri?' 

'Professor,' said Dimitri. He wondered if he sounded as breathless as he felt. 'What are you doing here?' 

The professor shrugged. 'Aren't you going to dance with Edelgard?' 

His tone was hard to read and his face revealed nothing; Dimitri wondered if the professor was teasing or if the question meant something else. 'She taught me how to dance, you know. Her instruction was rather,' he paused, searching for a word that would convey Edelgard's attitude and his childish fear of disappointing her, 'strict.' 

'You grew up together?' 

'She and her uncle spent some time in Faerghus during the political unrest in the Empire.' Dimitri wondered what he was doing, speaking of the past now. 'But I didn't know she was my stepmother's daughter. My mother never mentioned having children of her own, but she treated me like her real son.' 

'Perhaps it's not too late to reconnect,' said the professor. 'Family is important, isn't it?' 

Dimitri remembered the professor hadn't known his mother either. 'I don't know why I'm boring you with--' 

'I wanted some time alone.' The professor was looking up at the night sky, the moonlight catching the sharp curves of his face. 

'Oh.' The professor might as well have stabbed Dimitri with his dagger. 'In that case. I should get going.' 

'You asked me what I was doing here.' The professor laughed. 'A truth in exchange for what you told me.' 

Dimitri had no idea how to reply. He wouldn't say the professor wasn't easy to talk to, because he listened and gave advice when asked. But he said things sometimes that Dimitri couldn't follow, as if half the conversation happened where only the professor could hear. 

'When people make a big deal about me,' the professor went on, 'they see Jeralt's son. Or the person who can wield the Sword of the Creator. It feels heavy.'

'I do think you deserve recognition for your skills,' said Dimitri. 

They stood in silence for a while and Dimitri was wondering if he really should leave when the professor spoke again, 'You're always nice.'

'I'm not,' said Dimitri, because he wasn't. 'But you're lovely.' He laughed, weak and fake, and rolled his shoulders. 'I could never get used to such festivities, but I should return. I'll be seeing you, professor.' 

He left and didn't dare look over his shoulder. 

*

Back in the great hall Dimitri leaned against a pillar, away from prying eyes, and didn't emerge until he was sure he could stand upright again. 

He didn't need Sylvain's urging to drink more wine than was wise and collapsed on his bed without bothering to take his shoes off. 

*

v. Death

The rain had started falling in earnest and Dimitri got the unenviable task of telling the professor they needed to take shelter. The rush of raindrops hitting the ground almost drowned out the professor's sobs, but from a few paces away, Dimitri could hear the sharp intake of breath, see the professor shaking as he held his father's body close. 

'Professor.' Dimitri placed a hand gently on the professor's shoulder. 'We need to leave.' 

The professor didn't protest, didn't resist as Dimitri pulled him up, quiet and biddable as a lost child. 

Buried deep in Dimitri's memories was a young boy. His eyes were dry and he wouldn't feel the pain from the burns on his arms until days later, not when he was still dulled by the shock of what he had witnessed. His heart expanded with nothingness until it blocked the back of his throat and made him unable to scream. 

The professor leaned against Dimitri, the warmth and weight of his body real and immediate, pulling Dimitri away from the day the world burned and fell apart, his existence a mere shadow cast by the bright fires of revenge--

'Your Highness?' Dedue's voice was soft, as if he was speaking to a spooked horse. 

'We need to--' Dimitri looked at the professor, his pale face and reddened eyes, then looked at Jeralt's body. The famed Blade Breaker and legendary Captain of the Knights of Seiros, broken and left alone in a muddy field as the rain continued to fall. 

'I understand,' said Dedue. 'Ashe had gone ahead to inform the knights. I'll be waiting here, to keep,' he paused, and Dimitri felt as if the ground was moving under his feet, 'to keep the captain company.'

'Thank you, my friend.' Dimitri knew he was holding the professor too tightly and would probably leave bruises on the poor man's arm, but he couldn't let go. 

*

'More than anyone, I want you to rely on my strength.' Dimitri took a deep breath. 'Just say the word, and I would kill anyone for you.' 

A part of him, the part that longed for a future he knew he couldn't have, was aware he was wandering away from the path of sanity, but the professor's eyes reflected a familiar madness that he resented. 

Not his professor. The professor should be untouched by that madness, free from the darkness that clawed at Dimitri's every waking moment and the anguished whispers of the dead. 

Byleth looked at him and said, so low Dimitri had to lean down to hear him, Byleth's breath a non-caress against Dimitri's ear, 'Thank you.' 

*

vi. Change

The professor's hair had turned several shades lighter, soft and almost translucent. Dimitri had reached out to touch the strands before stopping himself midway. 

'Solon said--' he began. 'I knew you wouldn't fall so easily. But what happened?' 

'The goddess lent me her power,' said the professor. 'She's gone.' 

He fell, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of Dimitri's blood rushing through his ears, until he realised the professor was just sleeping. 

The professor was heavier than he looked, but he was alive and snoring a little bit and Dimitri felt like the first sunny day after a long winter. 

*

Between Lady Rhea's enthusiasm and the mysteries that surrounded the changes in the professor's appearance, it was easy to miss the sadness that lingered in the corners of his lips and the shadows under his eyes. 

Dimitri would have paid more attention, but the Flame Emperor's dagger was a damning weight that wore at his sanity and he could think of little else. He hadn't been surprised; in his research and late-night excursions to the restricted section of the library, he'd managed to fit bits and pieces together to make a logical whole. Arundel. And--despite what he wished and hoped to believe--Edelgard. They stood in the centre of the puzzle, their wicked hands dripping with blood. 

'Perhaps if he hears it from you, His Highness would listen,' said Dedue. 

The professor gave Dimitri a look. 'You need to rest.' 

Cute, coming from a man who was coming apart from the seams himself. Dimitri would have laughed, except he couldn't. Not if it meant seeing the flash of hurt on the professor's face. 

'I refuse,' said Dimitri. 'I won't be able to sleep even if I wanted to. I'll be fine and ready for this month's mission, don't worry.' 

The professor had frowned, but he hadn't pushed the issue. Dimitri had almost forgotten about the conversation until he found the professor standing at the entrance of the training grounds later that night. Dimitri had gone back after dinner, intending to get some training done before turning in. Anything was better than lying unsleeping in his room, staring at the ceiling, and listening to the condemnation of ghosts.

'Please leave,' said Dimitri, before the professor could open his mouth. 

'The goddess, she'd been with me since I was born,' said the professor. 

That was the last thing Dimitri expected the professor to say. Surprised out of his bad temper, he waited for the professor to continue. 

'Now she's gone.' The professor stepped closer. He'd been drinking; Dimitri could smell it on his breath although nothing in his manner or speech betrayed just how much beer he'd had. Jeralt had been known to outdrink anyone that dared match his pace and it looked like his son took after him. 'My father. And now her. I can't hear her voice anymore. All gone.' 

'I'm so--' Dimitri stopped when he saw the professor reach out, his brain not quite registering the professor pulling at his collar until he was leaning down, close enough to see that the professor's eyelashes were the same colour as his hair. 

'Do you want to make a mistake with me?' said the professor. 

'Professor--'

'Soon you'll be gone too.' The professor sounded like he was explaining a battle tactic in class. 'And I wouldn't have--' he let his voice trail off. 

Dimitri took a deep breath. 'Yes.'

*

The professor's lips were as soft as Dimitri imagined, although his kisses weren't. He seemed to melt against Dimitri as their tongues met, warm and soft and wet. Dimitri gasped when the professor bit hard at his lower lip. 

'Professor.'

Their voices warned him against what he was doing. 

Glenn, whose chance at love had been cut short before it had fully begun, frowned. 'Is this a mistake you truly want to make, prince?' he said, harshly. A spear had pierced him through the throat. Dimitri would never forget: Glenn always sounded harsh and breathless, forever choking on his own blood. 

'Dimitri,' said Byleth, moving so Dimitri could feel his cock through the layers of their clothing. Byleth was wearing too many clothes. Layer upon layer that Dimitri had to take off without ripping everything to shreds. 

'Will you forget?' said King Lambert. 

Not him, Dimitri thought. He pushed Byleth away, needing Byleth's lips against his own more than around his own cock, and said, to Byleth's questioning look, 'Hold me.' 

Byleth obliged, kissing him again, hand moving to wrap around Dimitri's cock. 

'Professor,' said Dimitri. His.

His. 

'You promised.' Lambert shouldn't have been able to talk at all, his head cut off from his body, the jagged edges of flesh and lacerated skin where the enemy's blade had struggled before crushing his spine. His voice was the dripping of blood and roaring flames that swallowed the setting sun. 'Have you forgotten your promise, my son?' 

'Oh,' gasped Byleth. Dimitri had wrapped his own hand around their cocks, moving in counterpoint to the rocking of his hips, watching Byleth arch his back like a cat in heat. His face was flushed and beautiful. Dimitri kissed him, leaving marks and bruises, reveling in Byleth's body and the cries of pleasure he tried to muffle against his fist. 

In the next room, Dedue might be lying awake, listening to his professor cry out Dimitri's name, begging Dimitri to fuck him. 

The dead ranted and railed, accusing him of neglect and abandonment, but for once Dimitri had no trouble ignoring them. Instead he took whatever Byleth allowed, focusing on Byleth's pleasure, the taste of him, and the way he dug his fingers against Dimitri's back as he came.

His. 

*

vii. Truth

The sound of the Flame Emperor's mask falling to the ground echoed and faded across the hallowed ceiling of the tomb. In the silence, Dimitri allowed whatever was left of his heart to break into tiny shards of despair.

Then he began to laugh. 

*

The ghosts called for her blood. For him to cut her head off her shoulders like she and Arundel did with Lambert. 

Byleth was worried. He didn't understand how deep their betrayal went, the people who only knew how to kill and destroy, the ones who got rid of Jeralt on a whim. Dimitri was going to kill her, for the souls of the damned and for Byleth. 

Justice would be served. 

*

viii. End

He was hiding with the rest of the Blue Lions in the forests of Charon when he heard the news. 

Byleth had fallen in battle. The knights couldn't find the body, and Dimitri tried not to think of him cut into pieces, a memento to the bastards who had conquered the bearer of the Crest of Flames. His smile, the patience in his voice as he corrected his students, eyes that shone whenever he looked at Dimitri, the whole of him, brilliant and beautiful, reduced to a thing of lifeless flesh and bone. 

Dimitri didn't have anything left in him to cry. 

*

In Fhirdiad, betrayal. He had no idea if Felix and Sylvain managed to escape, but as news of the Regent's murder spread, Dimitri knew it was only a matter of time before the House of Blaiddyd fell. 

He counted the days until he could join the damned in the fires of hell. 

*

Death. 

It won't stop, the deaths. 

But he continued to live, like a cruel joke with no punchline. Just the screaming voices of the dead and the smell of blood and the deep despair of failure. 

No. He was alive. He could still take his revenge. 

The screaming wouldn't stop either. 

*

ix. Reunion

In the light of the setting sun, Byleth's hair looked almost white. Dimitri tried to move away, but the wall was already against his back and Byleth kept moving, his boots making a smart thumping sound against the dusty floor. 

'You,' said Dimitri. 'I should have known you'll come and haunt me too.'

The ghost offered him a hand. 

'Stop looking at me like that.' 

'Like what?' said the ghost. 

Dimitri looked up, frowning. 'I'll kill her, like I promised. Just you wait.' 

'Dimitri,' said Byleth, his voice calm and patient as always. 'Are you all right?' 

Something clicked inside Dimitri's brain and he finally stood up. 'You're alive.' His grip tightened on his lance as Byleth nodded. 'Then you've come to kill me.' 

'Of course not.' Byleth reached out, his face closing like a door when Dimitri stepped away. 'I'm glad you're safe.'

Strange words. He had forgotten what it felt like to have people worry about his well-being, forgotten kind words and gentleness. Safe and alive; were people really glad he had survived? 

Dimitri looked away. 'Hm.'

*

He hated the way Byleth looked at him, like he was a recalcitrant child that needed humouring. Dimitri preferred the moments when Byleth finally lost his temper and treated him like the monster he was. 

But for some reason Byleth allowed Dimitri to use him: his name, his influence and connection to the Church, and sometimes his body--Dimitri taking him on top of the rubble or sitting on one of the pews in the cathedral, his muffled cries echoing across the building until Dimitri kissed him silent. 

Dimitri hated and lived on hate. 

Hold me, he wanted to say. The dead were relentless and he reeked of the blood of the innocent, but even so, he longed. Longed for something. A long-forgotten sunny day. 

Hold me, he failed to say. 

But Byleth did anyway. 

*


End file.
